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Text The storm continued to rage outside, despite the fact that hours had passed… and Luna and Scrivener lay comfortably lay half-curled together on the futon, Scrivy resting his head against the female's side. Pinkamena had vanished without a word, and Discombobulation was back inside his vial, once more tiny and sleeping comfortably in the bath of Ambrosia, a little pale but at the same time looking much happier and far less fragile than before. Luna was smiling softly, Nightmare Moon receded in body and mind, the passionate darkness once more locked away somewhere down deep in perhaps the depths of her soul as she sketched quietly on a large paper pad by hoof. She gazed thoughtfully over the image, splotched here and there with eraser marks, smudged a bit by her sometimes-overeager movements, and then she bit her tongue as she made one smooth, slightly-twisted stroke with the pencil before grumbling under her breath. "Accursed expressions can be so difficult… absolutely ridiculous how one foul curve in one foul line can distort or glorify an entire picture…" "You're talking to yourself again." Scrivy mumbled against Luna's side, and she absently reached back and smacked him, knocking his glasses askew from his features and sending them tumbling to the bedding, but the earth pony only yawned, reaching down to toss these lightly off to the side before half-crawling over the winged unicorn and burying his face against one wing. "Also, you're drawing me in… uglier-than-I-already-am form. Of course it's going to look grim and distorted." "Thy face is grim and distorted." Luna grumbled, and she slapped at him again with a roll of her eyes, but the earth pony only huffed and lightly hit back at her flank. "Anyway, I feel… compelled to draw this. I like it. 'Tis fun. And thou cannot stop me so there." She looked over her shoulder and blew a short raspberry at him, and Scrivener grumbled under his breath before he finally sat up, stretching absently and mumbling: "Well, I'm tired of exploring my deranged psychology. I'm also tired of this storm. Now that we've finally been exposed to the corruption so much we don't feel it anymore – or you know, whatever happened, in smarter-sounding words – it's just a big rainstorm that stops us from going outside or doing anything, and much as I like being inside and enjoy the sound of the rain… it still makes me feel tired and like complaining." "Everything makes thou complain, insufferable beetle." Luna grumbled, and Scrivener shrugged moodily after a moment before she glared at him challengingly. "Do not force me to draw thee engaging in horribly depraved acts." "Because yes, that would be so scarring compared to you forcing those mental images into my brain like you already do every so often." Scrivener retorted dryly, and Luna paused before she looked at him thoughtfully, the male wincing and covering his head. "Okay, okay, don't, you win! I'll go and do the dishes." "No, no, thou shalt not. Instead, thou shall lay down here with me." Luna replied firmly, and Scrivener gave her an amused look before he squawked when her horn glowed blue, a firm telekinetic grip seizing him by the head and yanking him back down to half-flop over her, and Luna nodded firmly after a moment as she turned her attention back to sketching, saying kindly: "'Twould be wonderful of thee to massage my back, Scrivy. I may even forego pummeling thee if thou does so." "How generous." Scrivener said drolly, and he smiled despite himself after a moment as he slipped upwards and straddled her lower back, resting his weight down on her and making her smile as she closed her eyes for a moment. His front hooves rubbed upwards along either side of her spine to her shoulders, working and massaging gently as he leaned over her and gazed down with soft entertainment, her flickering mane spilling off to one side to allow him easier access as he gazed past her head and watched her continue to draw. It was fascinating to him: the way she moved, adding a line here, shading a little there, not really following any order or clear thought, making changes based mostly on her whims. It made him smile to watch, as his hooves gently worked along her shoulders, one hoof sliding through her ephemeral mane and sending a distinct tingling along his foreleg as he leaned a little further down and murmured softly: "You know, you're actually making me look okay. Like one of those comic book superheroes or something. One of the ones with the really screwed-up back-story and is probably more hated than respected even by the ponies he saves." "Oh, Scrivy, thou art the most insufferable mix of sweet and sour. We should bottle thy words and sell them… 'twould surely make us rich." Luna replied dryly, not looking up from the page as she shaded the darker patches of scale in thoughtfully. "Thou art so strange though, Scrivener Blooms… why did thou never simply… pursue thy dreams in life?" "Because then I never would have ended up in Canterlot with you. Maybe it was destiny that made me a selfish, unmotivated loser." Scrivener replied with a smile, and Luna laughed at this before she cursed when she accidentally dragged the pencil against the page and left a long line extending off Scrivener's back. "I don't think I have one of those." Luna began to open her mouth… and then she closed it thoughtfully before beginning to draw quickly, and Scrivener frowned curiously as he leaned over her shoulder, the winged unicorn adding more lines that seemed disconnected at first, but shortly became a large, draconic wing before she smiled slightly… and Scrivener smiled despite himself at this, gazing down at it and half-leaning his body overtop hers as he said softly: "Tyrant Wyrms don't have wings, though… and you know I hate flying." "Aye, I do… and Scrivener Blooms, thou art no Tyrant Wyrm, whatever the creature's corruption did to thee." Luna said softly, and Scrivener smiled as he closed his eyes, pushing his face against the back of her head as he embraced her tightly around the neck, Luna reaching a hoof up to quietly touch one limb. "And whether or not thou enjoys the skies… thou art always soaring in my eyes." Scrivener laughed despite himself, murmuring softly against her starry locks as they sizzled gently against his features: "You're the true poet in this relationship, Luna. My words can't hold a candle to yours." "Only because thou insists upon using thy gifts to write poems of horrible despair and darkness most of the time, Scrivener Blooms." Luna replied with a slight smile, eyes flicking backwards as she slid her hoof along his forelimb to gently grasp the male's own. "I have a pondering, Scrivy." "When don't you?" Scrivener leaned back, smiling despite himself, and Luna grumbled as she closed the notebook and put it and her pencil aside, before she wiggled beneath him until she managed to roll over as the male raised himself a bit, then laid down and rested his front hooves on her shoulders as she played her own against his chest. Scrivy's weight pressed quietly down against her, and Luna flicked her head to the side, their eyes meeting and trading emotions and thoughts and affections before the earth pony gave her a quietly-entertained look. "You're hiding it from me." "Only because thou art being nosy. Nosy-nosy-nosy." Luna retorted, and she blushed a bit before squeezing into his shoulders, leaning up and kissing his lips suddenly and quickly, and the male blinked before he smiled when she dropped back and asked curiously: "How would thou like me to polymorph thee for a time into thine subconscious form in the real world?" Scrivener reared back in dumb surprise at this, not knowing what to even think, and Luna blushed a little deeper before she said awkwardly: "'Tis… just a random idea that occurred, Scrivy, that is all. Thou knows it is not hard for me to temporarily transform one shape to another… and I know that… in taking on Nightmare Moon's shape myself as I have over the years, for one purpose or another… in a way, it has made me more… I know not. Accepting of her necessity in my life? Or simply more confident that no matter what I look like, I am the controller of my destiny. I… I only wish to aid thee, even if it sounds… awkward, I know. Oh, silence, Scrivy, 'tis dumb." "It's not dumb. At all." Scrivener said softly, leaning down and kissing her cheek, and Luna smiled lamely even as a faint blush tinged her dark sapphire body. He drew back a bit, looking down at her curiously, and then he smiled awkwardly and asked softly: "How long were you thinking? And this isn't just so you can live out some awkward fantasy of yours, is it?" "Oh, Scrivener Blooms. Were we not connected in soul and did I not know thee so well, I would smite thee horribly." Luna said dryly, and Scrivener shrugged amiably, which only made her sigh and roll her eyes even as she fought back a smile. "'Twould only be a short-term transformation, I think. Perhaps a day at most… I am not sure how difficult the spell would be to cast, after all. I can transform thee with almost the same ease I can change myself, after all, and as I will be creating a reflection of thy subconscious and thou will be able to greatly aid me in the crafting of the polymorph, both physically and mentally…" "I get what you mean, Luna, yeah." Scrivener nodded after a moment, and then he looked down at her thoughtfully before he finally gave a smile, saying quietly: "Alright. I'd… be willing to try, Luna, just to-" "Then let us try it right now!" Luna said firmly, and Scrivener groaned and dropped his head forwards before he blushed when Luna seized him by the back of the skull and leaned her forehead up to press against his own, her horn pushing along his scalp as she said softly: "No fear, and no regrets, Scrivener Blooms. Close thine eyes and concentrate." Scrivener did so, taking a slow breath as he let his weight rest down on Luna, her horn beginning to glow, thrumming softly against him as she pushed back up beneath the comforting mass of the male… and as their hearts, their souls, their minds began to move as one, as Scrivy felt his skin begin to tickle, his muscles flex, his frame shiver, he felt Luna's emotions and compassion and love and- There was a spark in his mind, and Scrivener looked back and forth in surprise as he found himself standing alone, lost in darkness… before a grinning face of muck and mire and toxin leaned down out of the shadows, grotesque and alien, draconic as an amber eye glowed terribly in one socket and blue light shone out of the other. Scrivener snarled up at this, a chill rolling down his spine as the creature whispered: "See? More and more, you become like us. This is destiny. This is fate. You helped kill us, but we do not experience death like pathetic mortals do… our Black Verses live inside you, and thus so do we. And you destroyed our creator, our master, our king… but all that has done is free us, and make us understand that in you there s great potential, for great destruction. Now you become us. Now we become you. In body, and soon in mind. We are Tyrant Wyrm; you are Tyrant Wyrm. You cannot change your destiny. You are poison, and we are eager to show you torment that makes even Helheim quake…" Scrivener looked silently up at this face, seeing the Tyrant Wyrm in it, seeing Valthrudnir in it, seeing everything he feared and hated, and in some terrible, never-healed, broken part of himself, longed for and even admired… and he forced himself to take a slow breath before he looked up and said quietly: "I don't care." The corruption snarled down at him at this, and Scrivener felt his confidence returning as he stepped forwards, continuing clearly, coldly: "Whatever else you are, you're a tumor, a cyst, a boil, an infection, left behind by a parasite. Now, I've dealt with a lot of parasites and tumors over the course of my life. Editors, snobs, critics, unicorns, and worst of all, fellow writers, or, as they would always carefully call themselves with such dignity and refinement, 'authors.' Normally I don't argue with them, but when they really get out of hand on their high-and-mighty streak, then I start to lose my temper a little. "So first let me say I appreciate your constructive criticism. You're right, I'm not entirely a pony anymore… but I never said I was a normal pony even to begin with. I think you misinterpreted that and reached a little too far when you said I was 'Tyrant Wyrm.'" Scrivener continued drolly, and the corrupt face only stared down at him disbelievingly. "You also seem to have a bad grasp of what certain words actually mean: saying that I will become you, and you'll become me, well, that all sounds nice and fancy, but you're a giant monster made mostly from decomposing sludge and I am a frustrated, obnoxious poet. If we really did become each other we would trade places. You would be me, and I would be you. So I would be the annoying voice in your head compelling you to pointless acts of destruction and pain and you would be the jerk pony being beaten up by Luna all the time. It's very prosaic but I think what you literally mean is 'we shall fuse together and become a new entity.' Although I think what you really mean is that you're going to absorb me somehow and turn me physically into some manifestation of a Tyrant Wyrm, and I'm having trouble seeing how that's going to happen. "Next. You continue to purposefully over-exaggerate my emotions. You seem to forget that first and foremost I've never exactly been Mr. Happy Pony, and this whole being a moody, cynical jerk thing is not entirely because of you. Nor is the fact I obviously enjoy lording power over another pony in one way or another." Scrivener sat back and flailed his hooves at the air, and the monstrosity snarled as it leaned down, glaring at him furiously as the light intensified in its sockets. "You're doing this really annoying habit some people seem to have: you make the story all about you, and what you want, and what you desire, and what you believe in, and what you think should happen. But guess what? It's not your story. I am the writer – oh sorry, author – and it's my story. You're the audience. If you don't like it, don't read it. And if you continue to claim you hate it, why the hell is it you sit back, reading it again and again, giving me these long, drawn-out editorials on exactly why you hate it so much, telling me all these mistakes I'm doing wrong that often fall to matter of personal preference or simple intolerance for being unable to see anything any way apart from your own goddamn narcissistic world view? You know what that tells me? You don't actually hate it. You hate what it makes you feel. You hate that it's a good story. You hate that you are not nearly as good at your job, as I am at mine. You're that annoying brat who flunked out of art school and spends his whole day sitting moodily around galleries telling people in a loud voice all the tiny flaws that are wrong with their pictures, so that you can try and make them as miserable as you are. "Well guess what? It isn't going to work anymore." Scrivener snapped, and he strode forwards as the creature looked down at him with surprise before he drew a hoof back and slammed it into the monstrosity's nose, sending up a splatter of black mire and making it flinch back in shock as its jaws fell stupidly open. "No matter how this story ends, I refuse to worry anymore about trying to change it, to make anyone happy… including my own goddamn self! I am not the potter, I am only the potter's clay… I am only the tool through which these things are written. I don't know where they come from, I don't know how they begin, and I never know how they end… I just put the words on paper. Just like my life, monster: my hooves are going to walk down this path and find the way no matter what, and I'm not going to fight against it, and I'm not going to run away. I'm going to walk the path in front of me, I'm going to make the decisions where I can, but it's not about what you want. It's not about what I want. It's just about living my goddamn life instead of trying to control every last thing or letting myself be controlled by every outside influence, and all I know is that I'm sick and tired of you trying to scare me and order me around and I'm ready to embrace the future of this story, whatever the hell it holds. So bring it on, crowbait. I'm right here!" Scrivener Blooms breathed hard in and out, glaring up at the monster as slime and bog-filth dripped from its features… and then the creature snarled slowly before it leaned down and roared furiously with enough force to send Scrivy skidding backwards with a wince, his mane blowing back and his eyes widening as poison and spittle splattered over him before the creature's jaws lunged forwards, the male clenching his eyes shut- "Daydreamer?" Luna asked worriedly, and Scrivener's eyes fluttered before they hesitantly opened, gazing dumbly down at the sight of the winged unicorn looking up at him with concern in her deep, dark eyes. "What is wrong, husband? I sensed a flurry of emotions in the moments the transformation took… I heard a growl, and I heard thou lashing out in anger at something I could ill define…" "You have pretty eyes." Scrivy said lamely, and Luna blushed a bit in surprise even as their irises locked and they traded thoughts back and forth… before she smiled in soft entertainment and embraced him fiercely around the neck, and he hugged her tightly back, claw gently stroking through her mane before he blinked and stared dumbly over her shoulder as he rose this warped, twisted limb. "What?" "As I said… the transformation took only moments. Thou art… malleable." Luna said softly, and Scrivener smiled despite himself as he leaned slowly backwards, flexing his body as he glanced over himself, realizing he was larger… larger even than Luna now, his body distorted here and there, half-Wyrm, half-pony. A long tail snapped lazily back and forth, and Scrivener tried to move this carefully to his will as a wing stretched out… and the male's eyes widened in surprise before he looked at Luna, who only shrugged and grinned up at him. "'Twas not a bad addition, I think, creature. Besides, thou cannot fly with just the one wing." Scrivener glanced back over his shoulder as the leathery, thick black wing stretched outwards, tipped with a claw at one end, strong and wide… and he whistled slowly after a moment as he flapped it once, then flexed it forwards, half-curling it around himself as he murmured: "Feels rubbery. Feels pretty damn easy to move too." "Good." Luna said softly, and Scrivy returned his eyes to her embarrassedly before she reached up and gently touched his shoulders. "Thou has nothing to fear, daydreamer. I am here to catch thee, should thou stumble… and more importantly, I see now… thou has braved the monster inside thyself, the face thou feared most of all. Or perhaps the word is not 'braved,' the phrase I seek is more akin to 'once more lost thy temper and yelled at things much larger than thou art.'" "So okay, I have slight temper issues sometimes, but only with certain things." Scrivener mumbled, and then he cleared his throat before he smiled a little, pushing down against her quietly, and she closed her eyes with a smile at the feeling of his weight, his body, his heat gently moving down against her, at the powerful thud of his heart as her own beat in easy time. "Thank you for… for doing this, Luna. I have to admit… it feels almost natural. And it's nice to be bigger and scarier than the warrior princess." Luna snorted in amusement at this, grinning as she pushed her hooves against his chest and leaned upwards challengingly. "Oh truly, Scrivy, is that all thou cares about? Such a modest male, such a dignified beast thou art." She paused, then half-lidded her eyes, stroking teasingly along his body. "But indulge me then, daydreamer… what would thou do if thou had thine princess trapped and helpless to resist thee, oh great and terrible monster? Would thou… gobble me down, tender morsel that I am?" Scrivy couldn't help but grin wider at this… and an hour later, he lay curled tightly around Luna, the winged unicorn smiling at the warmth of her husband's body and the feeling of being enfolded completely in his embrace… not something she was able to feel very often, being larger than he was, before she laughed as he nipped the side of her ear before whispering into it: "I thought this wasn't about fulfilling your horrible unhealthy fantasies." "Oh shut up, Scrivy, thou enjoyed it." Luna retorted, and then she squirmed around to roll over and shove her face against the side of his neck, grinding against smooth scale and tangled mane as she wrapped her forelegs tightly around him and felt his own limbs encircle her, hugging her tightly into his body as she added with a mumble: "And get not such ideas into thy head. I am merely continuing the fantasy. Thine sick fantasy. Chauvinist beetle-monster." "Yep, that's me. A chauvinist beetle-monster." Scrivener murmured agreeably, and then he kissed the side of her horn gently, a soft spark of blue flicking along the spire as Luna gave a sigh of relaxation against him, squirming herself tighter and closer. "This is still easily among the weirdest idea you've ever had though, Luna, just so we're clear on that." "Yes, well, the point of it is to make thee comfortable with thyself, to let thee understand that… no matter what the outer shell, thou art who thou art." Luna shrugged a bit, playing a hoof quietly across his chest as she added softly: "'Tis not like it is entirely without selfishness though, Scrivy, for whatever benefits thee also benefits me… and I often… am at war with myself over how I treat thee, and Nightmare Moon ponders the same: do I corrupt thee for my own ends? Or is this awkward attempt after attempt at saving thee somehow?" "You're being weird, Luna." Scrivy said kindly, and Luna rolled her eyes and headbutted him lightly, making him snort in amusement as he leaned back a bit before gently pushing her away so he could stand up and stretch, cracking his back absently… and then grinning down at her when she got to her own hooves, saying meditatively: "I really, really do enjoy being taller than you, though." Luna grumbled at this and responded by reaching up to seize him by the head before yanking him hard down with a firm twist to the side, Scrivener crashing loudly back to the bedding with a wheeze of surprise before the winged unicorn sniffed and said disdainfully: "The larger the giant, the greater its fall, Scrivener Blooms. Especially when weighted by an ego such as thine own." "If we're going to talk ego here, Luna, you're the one who bends space and time." Scrivener retorted as he stood back up… then grinned and caught her by the face with his gnarled claw when she tried to headbutt him, making her squawk in surprise. "Also, I am well-aware that you can still beat the snot out of me, but at least now I've got the weight and reach advantage." The winged unicorn grumbled, then huffed when Scrivener's claw stroked quietly backwards, playing through her mane, and she fought back a smile as she looked up at him and said firmly: "Thou art incorrigible." "I love you too, Luna." Scrivy replied mildly, and Luna sighed and rolled her eyes as the male's hand dropped away before he winked and strode past her, saying kindly: "Come on then. Let's see if I can still make you a proper snack in this big body of mine." "Agreed." Luna nodded firmly, then she smiled despite herself at her husband's back, softening visibly as part of her felt happiness for the way Scrivy was beginning to accept his darkness… and part of her wondered if this was truly a step forwards, or just a hidden power play by her own selfish passions. Top ↑ Category:Transcript Category:Story